


The Best Companions

by MissKira



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And coffee, Fluff, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and feels near the end, there's a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKira/pseuds/MissKira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Right," Sam nods. "What about a pet? You like cats, dogs?"</p>
<p>"I used to be allergic to everything, I didn’t have a chance to see if I did," he says. "There was this one stray Bucky and I would see around the neighborhood, but I tried not to get too close."</p>
<p>"That must have sucked."</p>
<p>"I didn’t really know any different."</p>
<p>aka, Sam Wilson attempts to find what makes Steve happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Companions

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this little story as a reply to someone asking for fic with Sam and Steve and a dog, though I had to add some Steve/Bucky since they're my lovely little set of idiots in love.

When Steve was ten, there was this dog that hung out in the narrow alley behind the local drug store. He’d take a detour between the brick buildings, away from the other kids that liked to tease him, and snake his way home through the alleys, where the air was cool and the sunshine not so bright in the sweltering heat of a Brooklyn summer. 

At first, he was scared; even though the dog didn’t jump at him, Steve was always so painfully aware of how small he was, how  _fragile_ , and was afraid of being knocked over, or hurt, and going home with a scraped knee or bruised arms. 

He hated that look in his ma’s eyes whenever he was less than well. 

Steve only went that way once a week, maybe twice, would slow and put out a tentative hand out to pet the dog before continuing on his way. It took a bit before he realized the dog was there when the shop would throw out the trash from breakfast and lunch, sniffing through the broken bags for food. 

He knew he’d never be allowed to bring him home, and as the weather turned from hot and suffocating to cool and breezy, Steve wished he could. But even Bucky told him it was impractical, that boys like them weren’t the kind who could keep pets, and reminded Steve that he was allergic to practically everything, and lots of people got sneezes from animals. 

When they walked the alley two weeks into November after grabbing cough medicine for Steve’s winter cough, the dog was gone. 

Steve coughed and drew it over and over across a spread in his sketchbook while Bucky kept watch, both too worried and wired to sleep. 

—

"The thing is, man, we’ve gotta find what make  _you_  happy.”

Sam’s eyes are hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses, talking around a breakfast sandwich on the patio of a local Starbucks. They come here, sometimes, after a morning run, when Steve is feeling social and wanting of a distraction. He’ll slow his pace and it feels like a concession, letting someone else run next to him, or a betrayal, but so does looking for a man who doesn’t want to be found.

Instead, Steve buys breakfast and coffee and allows himself to entertain the idea of a new friend. 

Sam is a perceptive type of fellow, though, and Steve frowns behind his coffee. “Plenty of things make me happy,” he answers.

But Sam is already shaking his head. “You aren’t fooling anyone. You’re the kind of guy who needs purpose in his life, a goal to work towards. And if you haven’t noticed, there haven’t been many calls for you-know-who these days.”

Natasha’s leaking of all the SHIELD files means less privacy than ever, and that Steve and Sam have made a habit of not mentioning his alter ego in public, lest someone look over and recognize him under a worn baseball cap and sunglasses. 

Steve sighs and leans on the table. “I never really had time - or the money - to think about it. And now that I do…” He trails off, leaving  _I can’t focus on anything but Bucky_ unspoken. 

"What about all those sketchbooks I see you with. Art can be great therapy."

He shrugs. 

"Right," Sam nods. "What about a pet? You like cats, dogs?"

"I used to be allergic to everything, I didn’t have a chance to see if I did," he says. "There was this one stray Bucky and I would see around the neighborhood, but I tried not to get too close."

"That must have sucked."

"I didn’t really know any different."

Sam nods, and drinks his coffee. That’s one of the nice things about their new friendship - unlike the others in his life, Sam doesn’t tip-toe around Steve like Bucky is some huge gaping wound no one is pretending not to notice. He lets Steve talk and is a great listener. 

Plus, he doesn’t give Steve a hard time for disappearing for days at a time. 

"Animals make great companions." 

"I’ll think about it."

—

Bucky doesn’t slot into their lives all that easily. There are good days and bad days, and times when Sam drags Steve out to see a movie or grab a bite to eat, distracting him with new stories from his own days in the front and adjusting to being part of the team. When Steve thinks about the random way they met and how Sam tries to help everyone he can. 

And when Steve lingers a bit as they walk past a pet shop hosting an adoption event, Sam grabs his arm and drags him back, talking the whole time about which breeds would work best for them. 

Being free of allergies and asthma, Steve bonds with a brindle colored German Shepherd when everyone else goes for puppies, not minding that the new addition is five years old. They grab leashes and supplies and Steve doesn’t worry about how Bucky will react until they’re outside Sam’s place. 

So Sam brushes past him, slides open the door, and announces to the house at large that there’s a dog coming in, and he’s a friendly. 

And maybe Steve smiles and hides his face by ducking to the side when Bucky crouches down and, while petting Shep, says, “Hey, Stevie, remember that dog we used to visit?”

Sam claps him on the shoulder and just gives Steve a look that he’s getting used to seeing, _told you so_. 

"Yeah, Buck, I do."  

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing ficlets, and made a [tumblr](http://iammisskira.tumblr.com) for fandom posts & feels, so stop by and give me a prompt!


End file.
